Although the old man suggested that the church guards should walk in front, Benedictus insisted on marching side by side. "This is a rare opportunity. We rarely meet each other. I hope to take this opportunity to chat with you more. Besides, this road is spacious enough, isn't it?"
"As you wish." The old man said.
"That's great."
There was no special reaction from the members of the Sevenths to this decision, but some noisy discussions arose from the church guards. It was not just specifically for the Sevenths, because for the church guards, it was hard to imagine that there was a team in this world that could march side by side with them, let alone this was a hunting activity representing the majesty of the kingdom. In their eyes, the bloody battlefield full of mud was by no means as sacred as this safe and clean hunting ground.
The two teams marched in an unpleasant atmosphere. Jorgen did not retreat to the back of the team, but remained in a position where he could hear the conversation between the two leaders without appearing too conspicuous.
"So, Sir Shawl," Benedictus said, "what do you think of the "Promoting Church Prosperity in the Frontline" plan promoted by me?"
"I'm afraid you need to clarify some. For things that are not closely related to the Sevenths and national strategy, I always forget." The old man said.
"Do you think this is unrelated to national strategy? This is really disappointing. This is a plan to build churches extensively in the frontline. It was approved by King Wrynn three months ago. We believe that the comfort of the Holy Light can give the brave warriors fighting in the frontline spiritual comfort, spur them to serve the country with a braver attitude, but not be swallowed by the darkness of violent acts. You should understand it. "
"Oh—now I remember. Building temporary churches in large numbers and encouraging non-soldiers to pray before the war, whether they believe in the Holy Light or not. Sorry, I'm not interested."
"It's a pity," Benedictus said heavily, "You may not care, but this negative emotion has spread to the brave Sevenths warriors on the frontline. None of them refused to enter the church to pray. "
"My soldiers will also pray," the old man said, "but what they believe in their hearts when praying is not the Holy Light, but the blade in their hands. They pray that the blades will be stained with the enemy's blood rather than their own, and that more blood will flow rather than less, so they do not need your churches."
"It's so horrible. Sir Shawl, aren't you afraid that your warriors will fall into real darkness?"
"Archbishop, although you seem to be untouched by mundane dust, you must admit that most people think with mundane minds in life. My warriors are the same. If I'm not mistaken, the construction funds for your frontline churches were deducted from the salaries of the soldiers who went to pray, right?"
"That's right, but it depends on whether the soldiers are willing to donate."
"I heard that many soldiers who converted to the Holy Light in the frontline, if they stopped 'donating', would be forbidden to pray in the church. And because they could not participate in prayer activities within the specified time, they would also be regarded as contempt for church regulations and recorded disgracefully in their personal moral assessment. Is there such a thing? "
"What a terrible rumor! Don't say you believe in such claims. I hope you can assist me to investigate the source of this false rumor..."
"You overreacted, Archbishop," the old man said, "I have to tell you, this is the battlefield. The battlefield will produce thousands of things that the Holy Light cannot take care of, and rumors are just one of them. This is why I let my subordinates believe in the blades in their hands, because it will never betray those who believe in it. When my subordinates find themselves betrayed, the desire for revenge is very terrible. Do you understand? The banquet site is ahead, and the king is waiting for us there. Now, do you want to go first?"
At this moment, Benedictus's expression was like a shipping merchant who had just learned that his gem-loaded ship had disappeared in the ocean. He smiled reluctantly and said "accept your kindness", then led the guards to rush forward. He immediately found that letting the Sevenths team follow behind was more disturbing than marching side by side. They were all killers and assassins!
In the forest clearing that can hold nearly a thousand people, after a tedious ceremony, speech and hunting results display, the banquet finally began. The seat closest to King Wrynn was Benedictus. He seemed to have recovered quickly from the frustration just now. The people of the Sevenths were arranged in inconspicuous edge positions, except for the old man, who was only two military ministers away from the king.
Jorgen looked around, but did not find Travis. Rather than saying that he went back with Dalia, Jorgen suspected more that he was forbidden to attend because of his dereliction of duty just now. Just then, he heard a sentence:
"Are you Jorgen?"
The speaker was his colleague on the left side. Jorgen did not know him.
"I am."
"I have always wanted to talk to you, but I haven't had a chance."
"Really? What do you want to talk about?"
"Well, it's like this," he said, "I'm a freshman who graduated this year. But you see, I'm already twenty-eight years old. And you are only thirty years old, and you can be Master Mardias's tutor. I think you are amazing. In fact, many people in my graduating class are interested in the things you have experienced. "
The man in front of him did look like a newcomer, just from his unvigilant eyes.
"What's your name?"
"Tony Romani."
"Okay, Tony, what do you think I've experienced?"
"I heard that Master Shawl's missing son was a bosom friend of yours. And how you saved Mrs. Dalia and Young Master Mardias in Southshore. You have done so much for this family, so Master Shawl must value you very much...People like me will never have such performance opportunities in my life. "
"Do you envy me?" Jorgen put a piece of roasted meat distributed by the chef into his mouth.
"Well, this is a bit embarrassing, but that's true. I do envy you. "
"Let me ask you, Tony. You are from the Investigation Department too, right? So, how many graduates are there in your class this year?"
"One hundred and fifty."
"Quite a lot. There were only eighty in my class. It seems that you are fortunate to be able to serve the Sevenths, and you did well in school. "
"You can say that, although the training was as difficult as hell, I finally survived."
"Since you envy me, then I will tell you something. A year after graduating, I went to Southshore. When I returned to Stormwind City, MI7 of the eighty classmates in my class were gone. After a few cases, before being sent to Auberdine, nineteen more people were crossed out from the list. I stayed in Auberdine for about three years. Within one year of returning here as a teacher, another twenty-three people were crossed out from the list.
"Of course, they did not necessarily die, they may have been sent to perform some secret mission, but since they did not come back within three years, they would never come back, at least they could no longer appear in their real names. This is a rule. In addition, my mentor witnessed his wife and daughter being killed by his most satisfied student, and then hanged himself in the bathroom. The whereabouts of that student are still unknown.
"Now, you should know the reason for the large number of graduates in your class, right? In five years, you will no longer envy me, because this part of emotion no longer exists. Just like this," Jorgen snapped his fingers, "gone with the wind. Do you understand what I mean?"
Tony nodded woodenly, turned around, and never spoke to Jorgen again for the rest of the time.
Jorgen knew that he should not have said these words. He exposed too much emotion to a stranger. When he realized that this might be the effect of alcohol, he put the glass that was brought to his lips back on the table.
Without consciously, he searched for the seats of the Church Guards with his eyes, and found the woman. She sat in a very conspicuous position, seeming to have no appetite, poking at the food on her plate like a little girl in a huff. The holy knights around temporarily put down their suffocating seriousness and chatted in low voices in twos and threes, but no one spoke to her.
After the banquet, the king and the Archbishop were still talking at the table, and the large number of servants began to clean up. The old man summoned Jorgen to him.
"What plans do you have for Mardias' class tomorrow?"
"Everything is ready. Young Master Mardias has entered the basic course of distinguishing true and false information."
"Very good. I will give you the maximum freedom and let you educate him in your own way."
"Yes, Lord Shawl."
Just before the banquet, the old man had conducted a chilling loyalty inquiry on Jorgen, but now he immediately praised his ability and expressed his trust in handing over the next generation. Whenever this happened, Jorgen would find that he suddenly didn't hate the old man so much, because he wanted to learn from the old man what he lacked.
A member of the Sevenths came to the old man, and Jorgen consciously retreated to the side. After a whisper, the old man gestured to Jorgen and said, "Just right, come with me."
The old man took Jorgen and another person to King Wrynn and Benedictus.
"Please forgive my rudeness." The old man said.
"Shawl, I and the archbishop were having a very pleasant conversation. Do you want to join?" The king said.
"We were discussing the issue of donations to field churches," Benedictus said, "and His Majesty fully agrees with my view. We believe that the warriors of the Sevenths should also..."
"Sorry, I'm here for more important things to say. Your Majesty, if you allow it, I would like to speak to the archbishop alone."
"No, just talk here," the king said, "I am your king, I do not allow you to conceal things from me."
Jorgen understood that this was the result the old man wanted. And on Benedictus's face, anxiety was revealed.
"Then," the old man said, "we will arrest the archbishop's nun, Bossia Wislanzo, on suspicion of murder. Usually we will execute the task directly, but considering the identity of the suspect..."
"What are you talking about?" Benedictus's hands trembled up to his waist, "Master Shawl, do you understand..."
"Whether you allow it or not, I will arrest her. This is the responsibility of the Military Intelligence Section 7. Your nun is suspected of instigating and threatening a prisoner in Stormwind Prison to kill the political prisoner Neil Jessie. I believe both of you remember this name, especially the archbishop. "
"Shawl," the king said, "this is not an ordinary matter. Is the evidence conclusive?"
"Although there is no physical evidence yet, I have obtained very detailed and accurate confessions. In order to prevent the case from being obstructed, I hope to control the suspect as soon as possible."
"This must be slander, Your Majesty," Benedictus said, "Master Shawl must be dissatisfied with me in his heart..."
"I am familiar with Shawl. His loyalty to the kingdom exceeds anyone else. I don't believe he would slander your nun for a trivial disagreement. Please don't speculate rashly. Now, Shawl, take the suspect away. Be careful with such a case, understand?"
Benedictus wanted to say something more, but finally did not speak. He pursed his lips and closed his eyes, with sweat dripping from his temples.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. Then, Archbishop, I'm offended."
Ever since the old man read out that name, Jorgen knew who they were going to arrest. He and another man came to the seats of the Church Guards, twisted Bossia out of the team. When he grabbed her left shoulder hard and pulled her back, Bossia looked at him with eyes full of anger, confusion and resentment, but Jorgen just shook his head imperceptibly.